


love is not a choice

by oricrow



Series: it was a murder but not a crime [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Gang Violence, Gangs, M/M, Mafia AU, Sad Victor Nikiforov, i also dont know if this is going to continue, i dont know yet, inspired by leigh bardugo's six of crows, mostly just gangs, sort of mafia, there.....might be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-02-07 05:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12834243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oricrow/pseuds/oricrow
Summary: Two unlikely companions, both running from a life they didn't ask for.(a six of crows flavored au starring one (1) katsuki yuuri, pining (what no he's not) and anxious, and one (1) victor nikiforov, desolate and bereft. whoops)





	1. i: carnage

**Author's Note:**

> wow okay SO! some people may recognize this, because it has been published before. however, there have been some major changes. here's some stuff i'd like to cover before we get started: 
> 
> first of all, i would like to apologize for being figuratively dead for like…a year (and change)
> 
> second of al, i would like to thank everyone who has stuck around
> 
> THIRD of all, i want to give a good, solid explanation why ive been MIA, but i have no excuses except a lack of motivation and laziness (the former has been helped along by a dear friend on tumblr)
> 
> finally, i am reworking this fic, so that means less grammar mistakes (hopefully), less weird plotlines that go nowhere, and more stuff that actually relates to the story and (most importantly) makes sense!!
> 
> ps. thanks for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay
> 
> first of all i would like to apologize for being figuratively dead for like…a year 
> 
> second of all i would like to thank everyone who has stuck around 
> 
> THIRD of all i want to give a good, solid explanation why ive been MIA, but i have no excuses
> 
> LAST (of all?) i am reworking this fic, so that means less grammar mistakes, less weird plotlines that go nowhere, and more stuff that actually relates to the story and (most importantly) makes sense!!
> 
> ps. thanks for reading!

As Katsuki Yuuri stalked the man, a raven cawed from a gabled roof above.

His target had been briskly walking westward ever since he had discarded that woman just minutes ago. The irreverence with which the body was treated struck him as uncharacteristically sloppy. Yuuri frowned as he approached the scene.

 

* * *

 

 

The woman's family was one of few major investors in the Katsuki clan's affairs, and her death would be viewed as a threat to the family. This in and of itself did not fare well for the investment deal, which, with this particular family, was rickety at the best of times. A murdered heiress would dissolve the agreement for sure.

Yuuri was the only one, to his knowledge, who had known of the murder at that time, and even that was quite strange. It was pure coincidence that he had been walking by the woman's estate when he had heard a scuffle, a muffled scream, a _thump_ , and quick, marching footsteps leading away from the commotion. Of course, the next logical action was to stealthily investigate. He had not wanted to risk drawing attention to himself, despite the fact that there seemed to be no one around. It was always best to be cautious.

He had walked around the side of the fenced-in yard to see the woman lying on a suspiciously dark, glistening patch of gravel in the driveway, beneath the carriage house. He had been shocked to note that the ordeal had occurred so close to the manor, where any passerby inside the house could happen to glance out a window and see. Yuuri looked upon the body once more. There had been a jagged, messy wound that swept from her right clavicle to her heart, that no doubt had punctured several vital organs.

The knife had still been embedded in her sternum.

Like he said—sloppy.

Yuuri had bent and removed the knife, then watched as more blood seeped from the open wound.

Her breaths had wheezed in and out of her mouth, and, soon enough, they hadn't.

 

* * *

 

 

After this, Yuuri slid the knife into the inner pocket of his coat. As much as he needed to track down who had done this, he did not want to sell them out—and judging from the weapon itself, he knew exactly who was behind it. Why they had left such an incriminating piece of evidence behind, however, was completely baffling. 

His ears drew him to a hunched figure (completely at odds with his usual pristine posture), hands shoved in their pockets, and was briskly striding away from the scene, gravel crunching with every step. Yuuri squinted, trying to get a clearer image of the culprit. This was when he made the (questionable) decision to hoist himself up onto the fire escape, climb to the roof, and follow the figure. It did not take him long to find out who it was that he was trailing.

Yuuri knew he didn't suspect he was being followed. He knew he didn't think to check the shadows of surrounding buildings for anyone who might alert the authorities, anyone at all—so a man swathed all in dark fabrics was completely safe.

He knew because if the figure  _had_ known he was being trailed, they would not have taken their hood off to reveal the unmistakable hair, which fell to his shoulders like liquid starlight. Or like the glimmering argent of the twin swords strapped across Yuuri's back. The blades were now sheathed in their shared scabbard, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Thankfully, there was no need for that, as no threat had been posed, but one could never be too sure.

The man walked with purpose, with far too much haste for anyone inconspicuous. Further proving his guilt, of course, was the fact that he was moving in the polar opposite direction of the crime scene. Someone was sure to have called for the city guards by now, and this man was as suspicious as they come.

He remembered himself, cloaked in shadow, following the man from a roof. He, smiled to himself, the irony striking him.

_Well, not as suspicious as me, but that won’t be an issue._

It never was. Yuuri had never been caught, never arrested, and never, _ever_ seen when he didn’t want to be. This man—this _boy_  (he was certainly not a man, what with being only just older than Yuuri was, and he was only nineteen) seemed to notice the speed at which he had been walking, and slowed down considerably, the slower pace was significantly less telling.

The culprit should have been more careful, should have hidden his face (and his hair—that _hair_ ), because god knows everyone who was anyone would recognize it. It was the face of Victor Nikiforov, only the best (most talented, smartest, best looking)  _Avtoritet_  in his family. He was about Yuuri’s age (two years his senior), but still just an underling. The head of his clan was Yakov—ruthless, volatile, and forty-some years older than them both. Nearly everyone Yuuri had spoken to seemed shocked that Yakov, old as he was, remained in such a high position. Most people were counting down the days to when Victor would take over.

Victor had never been subtle about his looks, and often flaunted them. Any time he was made to go to social galas and events, he always used his real name. There was some merit in building such a known image of oneself, Yuuri supposed, though the idea itself made his own skin crawl. The mere concept of so many people knowing his name, his  _face_ —it was simply too much to bear. He would be looking over his shoulder every minute, waiting for some unseen threat.

Yuuri’s family was the head of the Katsuki clan, and had been for years; and even he knew enough to keep his identity hidden. He preferred it that way. People knew the name _Katsuki_ (they would be morons not to), but not his face. Never his face.

If word got outside of the confines of the Katsuki clan that Yuuri was as young as he was, he would be offing people for weeks instead of doing more important things, like his _job_. And the attention from the family's wealthier patrons… he shuddered. No self-respecting man, or anyone, really, wanted to deal with old men who’s egos were the size of their disturbingly bloated bellies. People who considered him their rivals now would hunt him down, and then he would have to kill them, too, and risk a war within the Pit.

The Pit was the main center for trade and commerce between the slum-dwellers and anyone else bold enough to brave the streets there, slick with spilled alcohol, blood, and whatever else made its way out of the taverns and onto the road. As Yuuri trailed Victor, he made a mental checklist of the two pubs he owned as he passed them. They needed to be cleaned up. _The Devil’s Bridge_ , the sign hanging on the corner of the more boisterous one read. Of the two, it seemed not to be quite rid of its late-night-early-morning patrons. Yuuri pitied the poor drunkards. How bad did their lives have to be for them to drink at a known Katsuki taproom often enough for him to recognize their faces?

A peek inside the windows showed that both establishments needed a fresh layer of sawdust on the ground, as well as to be reroofed. Snapping him out of his thoughts, Yuuri felt something brush against his shoulder, effectively shocking him. His head jerked to the side, a scowl on his face. No one could sneak up on him like that, not even his own family. It had never happened, and (if Yuuri had anything to say about it) it never would. The unexpected contact had only been a raven—one which now watched him with small beady eyes. Yuuri let out a soundless sigh of relief, anxiety at being discovered quelled by a familiar presence, and watched Victor enter the raucous bar with a forced smile on his face.

Yuuri had trailed Victor through the entire Pit, and now watched him slow to a stop in the shadow of _The Devil's Bridge_ and pull out a dirtied cloth (it could have been white, once) to wipe his one of his many blades down. A nervous tick if Yuuri had ever seen one (and  _boy-oh-boy_ had he seen some).

The blade he used to kill the woman from the manor house remained in Yuuri's possession. He wondered if Victor had noticed he was missing it. The woman, wealthy as she was, surely had servants who had a) discovered the body, and b) sent word to the city guard by now. He would be shocked if it took much longer for the city's (dismal) alarm bells to begin chiming.

The woman had probably been harboring something, of course, all the Nikiforovs' targets did. Money, information, drugs, the like. Usually it was only the rich whose lives came to an early end at the hands of a Nikiforov. The Katsuki Clan were not much different, only that their victims were taken care of far more efficiently, and were . They would at least dispose of the body, be it in a bag, a carriage, or, at the very least, thrown down the sewers. A missing person was always better than having a traceable body discovered.

This had been different. Nikiforovs' kills,  _especially_ Victor's, were always— _always_ —clean. There was no body to be found, not at the scene of the crime anyway. One may turn up days or weeks or months later, but this had been a huge slip-up for them. It drove Yuuri to consider the motive. Surely it could not have been a planned hit—those were meticulously planned, executed, and tracks were always covered after. Something had happened between Victor and this woman to leave such a mess, something Yuuri was eager to find out.

A mess that had just been detected, if the clanging crime bells were any tell. Usually they weren’t, because they rang so often. A robbery on this street, a murder down that one. It was all commonplace by this point.

Victor entered the tavern, looking troubled enough that Yuuri didn't think he would be coming out soon. He was proved correct after wandering to the window and seeing him chugging a mug of ale, and immediately ordering another one.

In the dim lamplight, Victor's pale skin turned sallow, and he ordered another drink. This was going to be a long night for him, this much was clear.

Yuuri stalked around the side of the tavern and stepped inside the back door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumbley boi can be found [here!](https://oriicrow.tumblr.com)


	2. ii: intrusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is met with an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god im so good at updating! right! 
> 
> ok but really im so so sorry for taking, what, four months to update? wow thats gotta be like a record or something. 
> 
> anyway thanks for reading!!!
> 
> (edit: i'm reworking the chapters i already have written (just the first two lmao) but still! let me know if you see any typos, formatting errors, etc. thanks!)

Yuuri slipped inside, and, navigating the creaky floorboards with a practiced ease, crept through the shadowy hallway in the rear of the grungy pub, and finally reached the oak door to his office.

He, once again, thought back to Victor's strange behavior—beginning with his careless disposal of the woman at the manor, and ending with his odd decision to chug away ale after ale. 

 

_How interesting_ , he thought.

 

Victor did not seem the type to slink around. He ought to be preening, as he usually was, and not wasting away in a dirty pub. Especially one owned by the competition.

He sat down at his desk and smoothed his hands over it. The edges were smooth from the amount of times he had done this, the oils from his hands seeping into the wood, every nick and scratch in it familiar. He clasped his hands together and leaned his elbows on the desk's smooth surface.

He had been tracking Victor all night, and it was only now the time he would usually be waking up. With a heavy sigh, Yuuri prepared himself for what was sure to be an exciting day of getting yelled at by the dead woman's family as well as his own, for "allowing the agreement to fall apart". He sighed again.

 From the window in the back, a _tap tap tap_  sounded, followed by three scratches at the window leading outside. With yet another sigh, Yuuri let in the raven, who then proceeded to perch upon the coatrack by the office door.

The raven had been following Yuuri around for years now. He did not know what he had done in the first place to attract it to him, but one day it just…turned up. He had no idea what to do with it at the time, but he had assumed that it would get bored eventually and leave.

Just in case, though, he had left out little piles of breadcrumbs on his windowsill. Soon after, trinkets began appearing where the crumbs had been, and the bird had hovered around Yuuri ever since. 

So it stayed, and he had taken care of it as best he knew how. Leaving little mounds of leftover food—whatever that may be—seemed to be the thing that really kept the bird around. 

Now, it was pecking the doorframe, as it was wont to do. There was a carved-out divot in the trim where he had picked all the paneling away, and the exposed concrete showed through.

A knock sounded on the other side of the door, three quick raps startling Yuuri out of his thoughts. 

 

_Here we go._

 

He groaned as he stood up, the wooden legs of his chair scraping on the floor as it slid back, and trudged over to the door. It was probably not going to be anyone threatening, as they probably would not knock. However, there were only a few people who it could be at such an early hour.

With a peek through the eyehole, Yuuri's eyes widened, and he stepped away from the door, throwing a "come in," over his shoulder. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and retreated to his chair, mentally preparing for the verbal onslaught that was sure to come when the door opened. He tried to look busy—that way, his "guest" might leave sooner.

The knob turned, and the door burst open with a loud bang. The doorknob cracked on the wall behind it, adding to the huge dent in the paneling that already existed, and frightening the raven off the coatrack. He flapped over to the bookshelf behind Yuuri's head, then cawed at the intruder.

Yuuri glared at it, then at the person behind the destruction. Yuuri's semi-unwanted guest peered around the back of the door at the hole and grimaced. At least he had the gall to look the slightest bit guilty.

"…Sorry about that."

"No you're not, you say that every time. Come in."

It was an inevitability that his friend was going to show up at some point (almost daily), but the exact where, when, and why were never certain. Such as now, Yuuri, if given the opportunity (which he _rarely_ was, mind you) would have chosen not to have his dear,  _dear_ friend barge in on what was probably going to be his only downtime all day.

He was not exactly in the frame of mind to entertain a guest. He had been awake for what felt like a week straight. He was not surprised by his friend's sudden appearance, but he was not exactly enthused about it. 

“Yuuri! No hello for your _very_ _best friend in the whole entire world_?”

“Um, not today, no,” Yuuri was tired from working all day, and then running across rooftops since the ninth bell the evening before.  Was it really necessary for Victor to wind through the streets for hours? He was _exhausted_. 

“Aw, I was hoping we could talk!” How Phichit maintained a constant state of enthusiasm about everything, Yuuri would never understand. “We can talk.  Just please talk quickly. I've had quite the day.” It had been a long,  _long_ day. 

"Oh really?" Phichit was immediately intrigued, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, "Do tell."

"Phichit."

“Okay, fine, tell me later,” Phichit was immediately in business mode. He took out his notepad and began reading from it. “So I’m assuming you already know about the murder of the aristocrat woman a few hours ago?”—a nod from Yuuri, and a gesture to continue—“So her body was not disposed of, and it was pretty obvious she hadn't even been _moved_ , but the weapon used was removed. It seemed like it began as a stab wound, but kind of a strange one? It’s like the killer stabbed her, and then sort of dragged—”

 “ _Yes_ , okay, enough with the gory details, Phichit. I am well aware of the anatomy of the wound." He had, after all, been the second person there—only after the killer himself.

At this, Phichit squinted at Yuuri, dubiously examining his face. Yuuri was careful to keep his expression blank. When Phichit found nothing, he continued. Yuuri would bring it up later, when they had the time to talk about it.

“Sorry, sorry, I digress. Anyway, it was obviously a crime of passion, or spur of the moment at least, due to the forceful nature of it,” Phichit continued, engrossed in his own notes.

That… was a shock. A crime of passion? From _Victor Nikiforov?_ Yuuri had never heard of such a thing. He was shocked. What possibly could have happen to force Victor to act so improvidently? 

"Furthermore, no one has the faintest glimmer of an idea as to who was behind it." Phichit snapped his notebook shut, then looked to Yuuri for input.

Yuuri, however, was still reeling. No one had seen Victor’s suspicious walk away from the crime scene? He had even taken his hood off! Yuuri knew for sure that they had passed several other people. And he looked so suspicious! From his harried appearance, to his urgency, to his  _gait_ (usually, he walked as if he owned the very streets he strode upon, confident, dressed to the nines, and absolutely  _gut-wrenchingly gor_ —), not anything like it was tonight, all hunched over and nervous, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Victor had looked every part guilty of something. Yuuri wasconfused.

“So…what do you want me to do about it?” Yuuri asked; he was __thoroughly__ confused. 

 “Your father caught me as I was leaving this morning. He told me to give you orders to track down the killer, and bring him to the house,” Phichit said, flippantly as if he hadn't just asked Yuuri to  _hunt down and bring_ his _idol_ to his _father,_  who would  _surely_ — _oh god he couldn't breathe_.  _His father_ _was after Victor, and Yuuri was supposed to bring him to him and he couldn't even breathe and, and—_

Phichit looked at Yuuri, who had not spoken, or moved (had he even blinked?), but was now breathing quite rapidly. “Hey, Yuuri, what's wrong? Is it the assignment? I’m sure he can get someone else to do it—” 

“No! I’ll do it. I can do it. Nobody else,” because what else could he say? He had to find a private place to tell Phichit everything _._  He knew that the information would be safe with him, considering Phichit answered to Yuuri first, and everyone else second—his father included. But there were ears everywhere here…plus he had to keep an eye on Victor who, presumably, was still drinking.

So Yuuri agreed to search for the killer until he was found, and resolved to tell Phichit when he was sure it was safe. In the meantime, Yuuri had to come up with a plan so that he could save Victor from the wrath of his father, save  _himself_ from the wrath of his father, and keep them both out of harm's way until the threat had passed. That…would take a while.

Who knew the agreement between his family and that of the dead woman was so crucial that his father had  _personally_ asked for the person responsible? What horrible fate did he have in store for the one who jeopardized this deal? For the time being, he would wait here, explain to Phichit (somehow), and watch out for Victor.

 

_Until I figure out something else to do, something that will save us both._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is rlly short lmao
> 
> don't b afraid to drop a kudo or (and?) a comment if you enjoyed, thanks buds!!
> 
> tomblr: [wow it sure is…right here](https://oriicrow.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> again, thank you for reading! please leave some kudos (and a comment?) if you enjoyed!


End file.
